


Casts, Chess, And A Very Big Carrot

by Willsblackstag



Category: Hannibal (TV), hannigram - Fandom
Genre: All the sex positions with two broken arms, Anal Fingering, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Bottom Hannibal wins, Chair Bondage, Consensual Non-Consent, Dry Humping, Dubious Consent, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Orgasm, Grumpy sexually frustrated Will Graham, HAPPY HANNIGRAM VALENTINES DAY 2021, Hand Jobs in the Bath, Hannibal fucks himself with a carrot, Hannibal is a manipulative little shit, Hannibal the nurse, Hannibal the nymphomaniac, Hannibal the sex addict, M/M, Masturbation Interruptus, Masturbation in Kitchen, Mooning, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Hand Jobs, Non-Consensual Lap Dance, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Rimming, Tongue Fucking, Top Will Graham, Voyeurism, Will Graham has no leg to stand on, Will Graham is jealous of a carrot, Will in denial, Will is STRAIGHT DAMNIT, Will is incapacitated, boardgames, eating ass, the Penny Drops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willsblackstag/pseuds/Willsblackstag
Summary: Valentine's Day Hannigram Porn.Happy Valentine's Day to all Fannibals, especially the Top Will / Bottom Hanni enthusiasts.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	Casts, Chess, And A Very Big Carrot

_Week 1_

Will wakes up in a bed. His right arm is in a cast, as is his left. Hannibal appears in the open doorway wearing a simple sweater and lounge pants. The soft spikes of his hair are swept to one side on his brow. His voice is also soft when he asks Will how he feels before proceeding to explain succinctly what had happened. _After surviving the fall, I got us here and patched us up_. Will is naturally suspicious of the brief account. And he doesn’t like having to rely on Hannibal for things like feeding himself and using the bathroom. He _can_ still run – his legs are thankfully in normal working order. But he doesn’t want to starve or soil himself, so, until he can get himself out of this semi-incapacitated state, he reluctantly accepts the help.

And it’s not all that bad, really. Being fed and watered. The bathroom situation is a bit embarrassing, but there’s not much he can do about that, except go without wearing anything waist down, and he finds that option even less appealing than having to ask Hannibal to occasionally give him a hand. Asking the man to wipe his ass, of course, is something else entirely. But Hannibal just deals with it without comment, much to Will’s relief. All in all, he rather respects the doctor’s efforts and level of care. Until one night, stirring from a nightmare, he opens his eyes to Hannibal looking up at him with his mouth wrapped around his cock. Horrified, he yells at the other, demanding to know what he’s doing – with anyone else, there would be no mistaking – and Hannibal is apologetic as he gets up and leaves the room. 

The doctor continues to help Will, but after fulfilling his nurse duties, he goes and sequesters himself in an unseen part of the cabin, avoiding Will until the next time he’s needed. Eventually, Will can’t bear the silence anymore and decides to break the ice.  
“It was just the once, right?” he asks after swallowing the spoonful of soup held to his lips.  
“Yes,” Hannibal answers, he eyes on the contents of the bowl in his hand. “You were struggling with your nightmares again, so I thought I’d-”  
“Suck my cock?” Will interrupts him to say in disbelief. His choice of words cruder than intended, but that’s the shock choosing for him.  
“…try to help,” Hannibal finishes his own sentence quietly, and Will can’t help scoffing. An awkward pause ensues, during which the man looks down dejectedly at the soup. His hand slowly stirring but not lifting. _So he wasn’t trying to eat you_. Sighing inwardly, Will glances away. Feels the phantom sensation of a hand kneading at his nape.  
“I guess that’s one way of helping,” he grunts in jest before quickly adding, when he sees those hooded eyes look up, “generally speaking.” 

_Week 2_

Hannibal asks Will if he would like help bathing. Sniffing himself, Will tells the other that he doesn’t think it’s that bad. But when a face is pulled at his response – that subtle thing the doctor does with that normally impassive countenance of his – Will agrees, if the man makes it quick. And technically it would be if he was just sitting on a stool having water poured over him. Instead, Hannibal runs him a bath, and he finds himself sitting in it watching the sponge in the other’s hand like it’s a rock to split his skull open with. He tries to keep a straight face when Hannibal runs it slowly along his jawline. His dark eyes avoiding his as he works, cleaning his neck, shoulders, chest. And suddenly, Will remembers him staring up with his mouth full of cock. As the sponge travels South, Will inhales. Before he can tell Hannibal to stop, the man has brushed against his arousal. Swallowing, Will licks his lips as he watches those hooded eyes looking down at the water between his manspread. Slowly, Hannibal pulls his hand out of the water as though he’s trying to avoid disturbing a hostile animal lurking in the depths, and Will is in the middle of releasing his breath when the sponge suddenly hits the floor with a wet squelch. Hannibal’s hand plunges back into the water, and Will jumps when he feels fingers snatching his dick. Starts to protest, but is told to sit back like one does when there are others better equipped for an emergency. He tells the doctor to stop, but the water continues to toss as Hannibal tells him to close his eyes and think of his wife. Ready to shoot, Will squeezes shut his eyes, but he doesn’t think of Molly. Instead, he thinks of sitting on Hannibal’s chest while he lies on the floor of the cliff house with blood pumping out of his bullet wound, one hand fisting that prison cut as he thrusts in and out of his mouth. Back arching, he comes suddenly, briefly registering the warm spurts hitting his stomach before they’re washed away with water.

They don’t talk about what happened at bath time. But that night, Will wakes from another nightmare with a raging hardon, but no Hannibal in the room. Dragging himself off the tossed bed, he pushes the door shut with his foot before lying back down. Staring at the ceiling, he tries to think of unsexy things to get rid of his erection, but to no avail. His casts rule out the option of rolling over, so he gets out of bed. Looks around the small and sparsely furnished room. Ends up humping the wall. Pressed up against it with his eyes closed, head turned the other way, he doesn’t see the door opening a crack. Not even with he whips round hastily to ejaculate with a suppressed groan all over the bed. He curses himself after because there’s no way he can really hide the evidence, and even if he’d managed to bundle up the sheets with his feet, it’s not like Hannibal wouldn’t find it with that nose of his. So, next morning, sitting at the small table watching his juice being poured, he says, “Think the bedding might need changing.” To which, Hannibal asks mildly if he’d had an accident, and, indignant, Will answers no while admitting to himself it was an accident _of sorts_ and continues to sit there frowning until the glass is lifted slowly to his lips.

Hannibal washes the bedding and while it’s drying, they sit on the small settee with an old chessboard. Will doesn’t like the other moving his pieces for him, and suspects there has been a sleight of hand when Hannibal wins. But that’s not what he ends up complaining about.  
“What are you doing?” he says when the man reaches across the board to grab the front of his waistband.  
“I win,” answers Hannibal as he tugs down on both his lounge pants and shorts. Leaving his tackle hanging out, he then stands up in front of Will.  
“Are you serious?” Will half splutters, pressing back against the upholstery. Then Hannibal faces him with his back and pushes down his own garments below the waist. Mooning him. Unable to cover his eyes with his hand or cover himself back up, Will stares at the globes of Hannibal’s ass even whilst he tries to look away. Tries.  
“Look…” he begins to utter lowly in warning, not quite knowing what he’s meant to be threatening the other with. _Stop exposing yourself or I’ll… I’ll…_  
“Do you know what intercrural sex is, Will?”  
“Yes, I know what it is,” says Will flatly as he resorts to sagging against the settee with his eyes shut.  
“Does it repulse you?” he hears Hannibal ask.  
“Yes,” Will snaps with his eyes still closed. “Now put that away and put me away, too, please.” _God_. He doesn’t open his eyes again until he feels himself being tucked back into his clothing and Hannibal has answered in the affirmative to his _have you made yourself decent?_

Lying on clean sheets, Will stares up at the ceiling. Or rather, at the rounded globes of Hannibal’s ass superimposed over the ceiling. Squeezing shut his eyes, he tries to think of his wife’s instead. Tells himself it’s just the shock of seeing the man’s rear end after all these years. He’s not fixating.

The next time they play chess, Will sits there hoping his opponent won’t get weird on him again. All is going well and he even wins the game. As he chuckles at his own victory, he takes his eyes off Hannibal who leaves the settee. He is busy asking how the other doesn’t know about the fishing pole trap when a rag is pressed over his face from behind. Head tilting back in surprise, he looks up to see Hannibal watching down at him. Narrows his eyes while shouting a muffled _well this isn’t very sporting of you_ into the saturated cloth. _This is the last time we play a board game together,_ he continues to mumble before the encroaching black takes over.

++++

Music pulls him out of the dark as he feels himself pressing against something sitting on his lap. When he opens his eyes, it’s to the Verger brand, and he looks down past the other’s bare shoulder. Sees naked long legs and a glimpse of the world’s tiniest shorts. Beneath which his already hard dick is starting to throb. _So much for things not getting weird_.

“What’s going on?” he utters thickly when Hannibal starts to move. Following the rhythm of the music. _Is he… giving me a lap dance?_ He tries to move, but is restricted by what appears to be rope pulled taut over his body. Realises he is bound to the chair he is sitting on with all appendages immobilised. Except one. _Mph!_ His eyes snap shut and his lips press together as Hannibal continues to work tight circles deep into his lap. Massaging his erection with his ass. _Shit_. And it feels incredible.  
“Stop,” he grits through his teeth. “Please-”  
_He’s going to make me come if he keeps this up-_  
“Please, Hannibal,” he half shouts, straining against the restraints. Starts to panic as he feels himself nearing and bites down hard on the shoulder before him in the attempt to disrupt the dance. He quickly regrets the move, however, as the man grinds brutally into him, forcing him past the point of no return. _Oh sh_ -

Head snapping back, he growls through his teeth as he feels himself explode. Is still riding the sensation of his seed pumping out of him when he brings his head up to the sight of his own cum lashing the V, E, R. Sees it running into the groove of Hannibal’s back. The square dressing thankfully unscathed. _Should he even be moving like this with that bullet injury?_ Dragging his eyes up the mess he’s made of the other’s back, he sees one hooded eye looking back at him over his shoulder. Beneath the soft spikes of his hair, that black gaze burns into Will through delicate eyelashes. Swallowing under the scrutiny, he tries to catch his breath before speaking. Not that he can think of what to say just now. In his half confused state, he is even ready to apologise for ejaculating on the man. Until he reminds himself that _he_ is the victim here. _Knocked out with chloroform and tied to a goddamn chair_. As Hannibal stands and starts walking away, Will turns his face to call after him:  
“Hey!”  
Shouts his name, but is ignored. He realises the music had stopped at some point, and sits there in the silence of the living space. As he reflects on Hannibal’s sexual trespasses from the day he’d woken up in the cabin, he starts to wonder whether he’d been administered something. _That would explain my urges_. _Factor in the amount of times he’s drugged me in the past… Yes. That’s got to be it_. 

++++

Clean again, he makes his way back to Will. Straddles him in just a towel as he folds his arms upon the back of the chair behind the man’s head. Looks upon that classic Will Graham frown.  
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” he begins to say, voice dangerously low.  
“Do you want me to stop?” Hannibal asks.  
“Please.”  
“Is that a genuine please?”  
“Yes.”  
He tilts his head and pouts ever so slightly.  
“When are you ever going to stop lying to me, William?”  
The frown on Will’s face deepens.  
“What are you talking about?” he hisses. “You knocked me out, tied me to a chair, slipped me Viagra or whatever drug you’re using to make a point of humiliating me-”  
“You find it humiliating when your body expresses desire for me?” he asks calmly.  
“It’s not real desire.”  
“Then there’s no need to feel humiliation,” he says, smiling twitchily at Will’s claim. “It’ll take two hours,” he lies, eyes lingering on the neat sutures in the other’s cheek for a beat longer before he suddenly gets off Will’s lap.  
“Hey.”  
Starts walking towards the bedroom.  
“Hannibal! Come back here and untie me! Hey!”  
Has a nap on the only bed in the cabin.

When he wakes up an hour later, he feels a bit confused as to where he is, having slept on the settee all this time. The smell of Will in the bedding makes him expect the man’s presence until he remembers where he really is, and climbs out of bed. The cabin is silent except from the quiet sound of Will’s snoring coming from the living space. Reassured the other is still where he left him, Hannibal steps into the bathroom. Leaves the door open as he quietly goes about the business of stretching open his anus. Stopping when four digits put too much pressure against his prostate, and he has to remove one before continuing to slowly thrust into his rectum. His back arching against the empty bathtub as his legs push against its sides. His own soft panting and the discreet squelch of his fingers are loud in the relative silence, and he holds his breath for a second, hand stilling as he listens. Will’s rhythmic snoring is still there.

Kneeling in front of the chair between Will’s legs, he plants his hands to the ground and leans in to silently breathe in his scent. He glances up. Takes in that head of tossed curls. Chin to chest. Eyes closed and lips parted faintly to quiet snoring. Moistening his lips, he puts his mouth over Will’s flaccid penis and, continuing to watch that sleeping face, begins to suck. It doesn’t take much for the blood to rush into the appendage until it’s ballooning against his tongue and butting the back of his throat. He sees Will’s eyes moving beneath the lids and sucks harder until dark lashes flutter open and sleep fuddled blue take a moment to register his presence. When they do, the man jerks hard enough to topple the chair backwards if not for Hannibal’s hands on his thighs. He hears a curse and drags his lips up that generous length before releasing suction with a wet smack.   
“I guess it’s still in your bloodstream,” he says, eyes lifting from the beading pearl of pre-cum to the other’s scowl.  
“You bastard.”  
“You can still try to will it down,” he says as he stands up in his towel and straddles the other’s bound legs. Squatting down, he presses a hand to Will’s chest and grabs him by the base with the other. Feels his damp head kissing the slick pucker of his anus. Hears a sharp gasp from above.  
“Sto-”  
He watches those lips pressing together to stifle a grunt as he bears down. Will’s face pinching as though with pain as Hannibal feels himself opening millimetre by millimetre over his huge crown. He is glad he had prepared beforehand.  
“Stop,” Will groans lowly before the ring of Hannibal’s sphincter slips suddenly over the fat head of his penis, and he makes a harsh choking sound the same time Hannibal releases a quiet sigh of relief that soon turns into one of pleasure as, grabbing Will by the shoulders, he sheaths himself on that monstrous appendage – the suddenness of it wrenching a shocked cry from the other’s lips as his cock is swallowed whole by Hannibal’s body in one loud and obscene squelch.  
“You’re so big, Will,” he says shakily as he pulls up without giving them time to adjust.  
“Mnph!”  
Taking a breath, he slams back down and hears Will shouting like he’s been stabbed even though _he_ is the one whimpering from the abrupt pressure to his prostate and his clenching walls as they’re forced apart by the girthy invader. Fingers digging into Will’s shoulders, he gazes upon the pained and helpless expression on the other’s face as he proceeds to ride him with enough force to break the furniture. The air fast becomes a salvo of their intermittent cries as their bodies arch desperately away from one another under Hannibal’s efforts, the towel having long flown his frantic hips. His own penis slapping against his abdomen. His grip sure to bruise the skin. He can feel himself getting close. Can feel Will beginning to twitch inside him, too.

++++

He groans uncontrollably when Hannibal stops. And again when the man pulls off, releasing him from the tight seal of his body. _Come back_. Watching after that fleeing figure with half-drawn eyes and gaping lips, he suddenly snaps them shut and shakes his head. _No. That’s what he wants_. Tells himself it’s not what _he_ wants when Hannibal returns with a knife. _Shit, he’s going to cut my dick off!_ _  
_ “W-wait a minute,” he utters after swallowing, staring at the sharp blade as it nears. Hannibal comes close, but then turns around. Backing up against him, the doctor grabs his cock with his free hand and holds it in place until his head has popped past his tiny ring and the rest of his throbbing shaft is gliding back up that delicious hot passage. _No. Not delicious! Disgusting. It’s where_ \- He feels Hannibal clenching around him. _Sweet_ _heaven is... NO!_ He stops his eyes from rolling into the back of his head. _SNAP OUT OF IT!_

He sees Hannibal leaning down and feels the rope binding his left leg being cut. Before it has fully slackened, Will is bucking off the chair in the attempt to throw Hannibal off, but only ends up driving his cock deeper up the man’s ass. _Oh GOD_. The other’s grunt of surprise falls on death ears as Will’s eyes start once more to roll. _He feels so fucking GOOD._ He just about registers the freeing of his right leg from the rope when he feels that ass beginning to pull off him. Anticipating the slam, Will licks his lips and closes his eyes. When his entire shaft remains exposed, however, he opens his eyes again to find Hannibal holding still in his raised position. _This is NOT what I want-_ _  
_ “Will,” he hears the other pant. _It’s not what I want…_ “You’ve opened me up…don’t leave me empty…” _It’s-_ “Ruin me, Will…until no one else will have me…”  
…. _fuck it_.  
If his hands were available, he would grab Hannibal. Instead, he slouches for leverage. Bites his lip. And smacks his hips up into the other’s.  
“Ah!”  
“Fuck!”  
His body moves by itself. Drilling balls deep into that tight passage. Over and over. _I want it_. Over and over. _I WANT it_. Until-  
“Fuck, I’m gonna-”  
“Yes-”  
“Ngh!”

After blowing his load inside Hannibal, Will sags uncomfortably against the chair. Coming down from the high, he is embarrassed by how fast his resolve had unravelled. Is glad the man is sat with his back to him so he doesn’t have to see that smug expression. When Hannibal climbs off his lap, he turns around with the knife still in his hand, but no smirk on his face. As he bends down to tuck Will away and cut him free from the remaining ropes, Will can see his dick is still hard.  
“What,” he begins to utter, still catching his breath, but Hannibal continues on his way to the bathroom.

++++

The following day, the man acts as though nothing had happened. Even though he seems to be walking a little funny. They eat breakfast as usual. Play chess as usual.  
“You let me win,” says Will, watching the other gather the pieces.  
“Did I?”  
“You made the wrong move on purpose.”  
“Ah.”  
For a moment, Will doesn’t say anything as he watches Hannibal stand up with the chessboard.  
“So we’re not gonna talk about it?” he asks lowly.  
“About what?” Hannibal asks in return, looking down at him.  
“The drugs you’ve been giving me?”  
The doctor watches him without speaking.  
“If you’re that desperate,” he adds, “maybe you should take something for it.”  
Hannibal tilts his head.  
“Thank you for your concern, Will,” he says politely before returning the chess to its shelf.

That night, Will hears noises and gets out of bed. He walks into the living space where the noises get louder. Shallow panting and squelching. Coming from the kitchen. He ought to turn around and go back to his room. Instead, he approaches the threshold. Presses against the wall as he peers into the kitchen.

Hannibal is bent over the worktop. His lounge pants and underwear at his ankles as he fucks himself with a carrot. A really, really big carrot.  
“What the-”  
The sound of his voice makes the man jump. The vegetable hits the ground wetly. Will feels his eyes popping out of his skull at the size of it.  
“Did I wake you?”  
He doesn’t bother looking up at the breathless apology. _Fuck_. Just turns and storms back to his room. _I can’t…_ Groaning under his breath as he feels himself growing hard. _This has to stop!_

++++

Next day, he finds Hannibal making coffee in the kitchen.  
“Good morning,” he says. “You’re up early.”  
The man looks bright eyed and well rested. Will, on the other hand, is grouchy from poor sleep. He walks towards Hannibal. Stands at his elbow as he makes breakfast. _To see he’s not slipping me anything extra_. Sitting down together at the table, he watches the doctor closely as he feeds him. Those hooded eyes looking up almost shyly before dropping again to the plate.  
“How much longer,” he asks eventually, nodding at his arm.  
“It can take between six to eight weeks for a break like yours to heal,” answers Hannibal.  
“How long has it been?”  
“Two weeks. Would you like a drink?”  
Will realises one hasn’t been poured in advance. Presumes the man has cottoned on to his drug spike watch.  
“How long does it stay in your system?” he asks.  
Black eyes look up at him briefly before returning to the plate.  
“Four to five hours.”  
“I guess it’d help knowing when you gave me it.”  
They watch one another for a moment. Then he sees fair lashes lowering ever so slightly.  
“I guess there’s no real way of knowing until you’re free of me,” says Hannibal. “Four more weeks, Will. Then you can leave.”  
Frowning at the thought, he looks down at the table. _Why am I frowning? He’s just stating facts_.

_Weeks 3 & 4_

A fortnight down the line and Will doesn’t think he will last another. Not with the way things are going. He never would’ve thought he’d be in the position to contemplate the possibility of death by sex. A LOT of sex. Three times a day, minimum. Just like his meals. He tries to keep a close watch on Hannibal to find out exactly when the man is slipping him the drugs, but he can never seem to catch him in the act.

A pattern of sorts established itself in the first week, where a typical day began with Will being woken up by Hannibal sucking on his cock or giving him a handjob before the man helped himself onto his lap. He’d thought it a coincidence that Hannibal had sex with him the whole of the first week facing the other way. Reverse cowboy. Reverse Asian cowboy. Reverse kneeling warrior. Doggy. Also what the other called The Bodyguard where Hannibal had one leg up on the kitchen worktop. Then the second week came and it’d been an awkward few days of not knowing where to look as Hannibal reversed the reverse. Faced him in every cowboy, Asian cowboy, whenever he was on his back at the edge of the bed with his legs pinned to his chest – _Deep Impact_ , that one was called.

The Crab was the worst, when Hannibal leant back on his hands and bounced on his dick with his knees wide open. Giving Will a full-on view of his penis as it windmilled. By the time they’d moved on to the Sitting Bull, a variation of The Crab where Hannibal is lying down on his back while his hips are bouncing off Will’s, he’d learnt to keep his eyes on the other’s face. Found himself moving his own hips at times just to see hooded eyes snapping shut and those parted lips falling open to a helpless sound. If he got carried away, Hannibal would ejaculate, and Will had grimaced the first time he saw the man shoot. Mostly because he was concerned about getting it on himself. But the only person in the firing line was always Hannibal himself, and Will admits that he later enjoyed witnessing the other giving himself a facial. Something about seeing the once-meticulous doctor looking a mess as he lies there, knees apart, Will’s dick still buried up his ass, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. Those black eyes barely able to stay open beneath the sweaty and haphazard mat of his hair. His lips parted and inviting. _Inviting?_

A part of him asks why he gave up protesting as the fortnight ran its course, but he doesn’t really have an adequate answer. Perhaps it is something to do with the notion of a timeframe. Of an ‘end point’. _Four more weeks, Will_. The notion that this crazy episode is just something he needs to ride out. And if Hannibal really is suffering from some form of nymphomania – maybe the man developed the condition from hitting his head – then he could look for some drugs or something when he’s out. _That would imply coming back_. Maybe, a voice utters in the back of his brain, he’s enjoying being the thing that the doctor so desperately needs. He’s never had a sex marathon with anyone before, not even his wife. And all their past history considered, it’s rather empowering to have this over Hannibal, Will thinks to himself. _I can enjoy THAT a little longer. Nothing weird about that._

_Week 5_

On the morning of the first day of the third week, however, Will wakes up alone. At first, he just waits, thinking Hannibal has slept in, if his libido will allow it. Then, after a while, he starts to become restless. Tells himself there’s no such thing as dying from having too much sex. _It’s not like he stopped eating and drinking_. Climbing out of bed, he walks into the living space to see the man lying on the settee, facing the other way. His bare legs pinned back against his chest as he fucks himself with four fingers while toying with his own nipples. Swallowing silently, Will stands there for a moment, just watching. As Hannibal starts to pant, he takes a step closer. Peers over the edge of the settee to see that face turned inwards against the upholstery. Eyes closed, mouth open. His fingers still pumping into his greedy hole. Feeling his dick butting against the back of the furniture, Will licks his lips and clears his throat. The sound makes hooded eyes snap open and stare at him. That flushed face pinching with a gasp before the birth of another Jason Pollock.

Will opens his mouth to the forkful of scrambled egg coming his way. It’s delicious, like everything else the doctor makes. Including the sounds leaving his lips when he’s about to-  
“Could you not wait?” he asks mildly after chewing and swallowing. Watching that calm countenance. _Sated, for now_. _While I’m sitting here with a raging hardon_.  
“Wait?” Hannibal repeats innocently.  
“For me,” says Will without thinking. “I mean,” he scoffs quickly, averting his eyes casually to the sink, “you were that desperate, you couldn’t even get off the settee?”  
The concept makes him twitch in his shorts. Tormented by his own words. _Damnit_.  
“There’s two weeks remaining,” says Hannibal, his eyes downcast as he prepares another forkful of egg. Will waits impatiently for him to continue.  
“And?” he ends up saying when no explanation is forthcoming.  
“I’m giving myself time,” says the doctor. Will frowns, ignoring the forkful of egg held to his lips.  
“For what?” he asks.  
“To get used to things being how they should,” says Hannibal, meeting him in the eye. Will holds that gaze, not knowing why it feels as though he has just been insulted. “You will no longer require my help,” the man continues to say. “You will be as you were.” He smiles. The sight of which makes Will frown harder. Seeing this, Hannibal stops smiling.  
“Is something wrong?” he asks.  
“No,” Will grunts, biting onto the fork hard enough to snatch it from the other’s fingers. For a moment, he just sits there, glaring ahead of him as he slowly chews the egg around the fork. Eventually, he feels Hannibal gently pulling the utensil from his mouth before dabbing the saliva from his lips.

++++

In the afternoon, they usually have sex after chess, before Hannibal goes to make lunch. Sometimes while Hannibal is making lunch. But not today. After returning the chessboard to the shelf, the man pops into the kitchen before making his way to the bedroom. Will sits there on the settee, knee bouncing restlessly until he can’t take it anymore. Walking over to the door, he looks through the gap to see Hannibal lying on his stomach upon the bed with his face in the pillows. His lounge pants bunching at his thighs beneath the swell of his ass. Lying next to him on the cover is a carrot. Will snatches a breath through the nose as he leans in to stare at the enormous thing. _Where is he finding all these monster vegetables?_ He watches Hannibal lift the carrot and reach back to rub it between his cheeks. _He can’t be doing it dry?_ He hears a sigh as the man teases himself with the blunt tip. Hears him biting back a grunt as he starts to force the carrot inside. Shouldering his way through the door, Will storms over to the bed.   
“We need that,” he says, frowning down at Hannibal. _We actually have TOO many fucking carrots but whatever_. The other swallows as he holds Will’s gaze. Hand still clasping the root vegetable.  
“I need it…” he says quietly.  
“No you don’t.”  
“Yes I do. For when you’re gone.”  
Will stares at that melancholic expression. Feels his jaw flexing. He licks his lips and opens his mouth. Blinking as he fails to find the words. Then his eyes dart to Hannibal’s ass. And he walks round before climbing onto the bed.  
“Will?”  
Sliding towards the other on his knees, he stops a little short.  
“Spread them,” he says.  
“Will…”  
“Spread them for me,” he repeats the order, voice low as he glances up to see Hannibal watching back at him. Slowly, the carrot is laid down before hands reach back to palm a cheek in each. Will swallows, his dick a-twitch with anticipation.  
“You don’t have-” he hears the man begin to murmur, but cuts him off with a scowl before returning his eyes to that tiny pucker. So pink and obscene. How many times now had he watched it in action. Sucking him up like a whore’s mouth. No wonder the doctor is insatiable. He was made to take.

++++

Will tells him not to move. So he tries not to. Even when he feels that hesitant first stroke. Like someone trying a dish they don’t think they’ll enjoy. To Hannibal’s surprise, Will doesn’t pussyfoot around, and is bold enough to go straight for the bull’s eye. After which he can feel the hot puff of his ragged breath blowing against his hole. And it makes him clench involuntarily. As he does, he both hears and feels the curse before their cheeks clash abruptly. The abrasive surfaces of the other’s beard rubbing into him as the man feasts with unabashed hunger. His self-control momentarily abandoned. Arms winding around the pillow, Hannibal bites his lip and closes his eyes to the sensation of Will’s face burying in his ass. His mouth as it moves in a frenzy of licking and biting. Sucking and fucking with his tongue. Soon, he finds himself rocking back to meet those increasingly hard and rhythmic thrusts. The room filling with the sound of his shallow breaths and Will’s heavy, muffled panting until the man clamps down suddenly on his left cheek. His teeth squeezing the muscle until Hannibal’s face twitches with pain and his eyes slip open to the first trickle of heat escaping broken skin. Then, as quickly as he’d been bitten, he is freed from those cruel jaws, and he lifts his head to look back at Will. Finds the man sitting back on his knees, chest heaving beneath his tee as he licks the blood from his lips. His own spit smeared in his beard. His eyes wide as though in disbelief of his own actions. They continue to stare at one another until Will swallows and drops his eyes while shuffling backwards on his knees.  
“Make sure you spit on it,” he utters.  
“Stay,” says Hannibal, and he sees a flexing in that rugged jawline before blue eyes look up frowningly.  
“And watch you fuck yourself with a carrot?” Will drawls flatly.   
“But you wish to,” he says.  
“That’s not fair,” the man utters as he straightens.  
“I can help,” says Hannibal, leaning up.  
“Help?” Will scoffs, looking at him with narrowing eyes. “You did this.”  
Watching the other standing there, frustrated and unhappy, Hannibal deliberates telling the truth. “You’re always like this,” Will continues to say. “Drugging me because it’s easy.”  
“You see another way?”  
“Yes. It’s called consent.”  
“So you would have fucked me if I’d asked?”  
Will turns his face away exasperatedly.  
“If I’d said please?”  
A sharp intake of breath before:  
“Why are you so hell-bent on bringing out the worst in me?”

++++

He’d spoken angrily. His words loud in the quiet of the room. Hannibal watches him for a moment longer before lowering his eyes and pulling up the cover as though having rediscovered his dignity. Swallowing the rising guilt, Will walks hurriedly out of the room. When he hears Hannibal making his way to the kitchen later, he tells the doctor not to make him anything. He’s not hungry.

As Hannibal sits alone at the small table, Will sits on the settee, listening to the faint scrape of cutlery on porcelain. Eventually, he hears the familiar sound of his knife and fork being put down, and asks if the man wants to play another game of chess. He watches the floor as he waits for an answer. Hears the quiet sound of footsteps making their way to the shelf before Hannibal approaches with the chessboard. When his familiar presence joins him on the upholstery, Will keeps his eyes on the hands setting up the pieces on the board between them.  
“I apologise for what I said earlier,” he says.  
“I apologise for forcing myself on you,” says Hannibal.  
“No skin off my nose, I guess.”  
He glances up to see hooded eyes watching down. Returns his gaze to the pieces being put into place.  
“Have you always been this way?” he utters.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You know.”  
He looks up again, watching that impassive expression. Thinks back before the fall. The word _homosexual_ doesn’t seem quite right. Neither does _nymphomaniac_.  
“Kinda desperate,” he finally adds, for want of a better way to put it.  
“I wasn’t always like this,” says the other candidly.  
“So what changed?”  
Hannibal doesn’t seem interested in answering as he studies the board. Will stops staring and pretends to study the board too.  
“Maybe you hit your head on the way down,” he says.  
“Maybe.”  
“Maybe you could see someone. When we get out of here.”  
Silence. _Did he just insult the man by making him sound crazy?  
_“Maybe we could start the game,” says Hannibal.

++++

He wins. He kneels before Will. He puts his hands atop the man’s thighs. Looks up.  
“Can I give you oral sex?” he asks. Sees blue eyes looking askance.  
“Mn.”  
“Is that a yes, Will?”  
“…yes.”  
He pleasures the other with his mouth until he’s hard enough for penetration. Looks up again.  
“Can I fuck myself on your penis?” he asks, and sees a furrowing in that brow.  
“What happened to things being how they should…” Will mutters.  
“Would you prefer to rim me instead?” he asks plainly.  
A frown settles upon Will’s features. Hannibal reads that to be a sign of the other realising they are in the process of irreversible change. Believes it is time to address what’s really been happening here.  
“You understand that the use of drugs alone is not enough to force one’s hand?” he says, quietly adding insult to injury as he gazes upon Will’s erection. “Does it feel forced, Will…?” Slowly lifting his eyes, he finds the man looking trapped and uncomfortable. His lips parted to words that won’t come. “Close your eyes and will it away…” he murmurs before dipping his head. But Will continues to frown down at him as he sucks on his cock. And they stare at one another in silent challenge. His hands gripping those thighs. His cheeks hollowed. Will is first to break eye contact as he shuts his eyes and turns his face away with a quiet grunt. Hannibal swallows it all down. Gently lets the softening penis slip from his wet lips before carefully putting it away for the other.  
“The only drugs I’ve been giving you are those to manage your pain,” he says after wiping his mouth. Looking up, he sees Will avoiding his gaze. Looking even more troubled than before. “I’ll give you some space,” he says quietly before standing and moving towards the bathroom. 

++++

Except he doesn’t. Not really. Will still needs his assistance for things he most likely wishes he didn’t. And he still grows aroused when he’s being washed, only Hannibal doesn’t touch him like he did before. Doesn’t do anything to provoke the other for the rest of the week. If he feels the need to masturbate, he does so discreetly in the bathroom. Leaving the man alone, essentially.

Then the day comes to remove Will’s casts.

“How does that feel?” he asks, watching the other slowly flex his arm upon the table.  
“Kinda weak.”  
“You’ll need time to build up muscle strength.”  
Will doesn’t say anything as he gently rotates his wrist. Hannibal looks down at the scissors in his hands.  
“I can help you,” he says quietly, pulse beginning to race despite himself. He had in fact been rather restless all morning. Waiting for this moment. _Four more weeks, Will. Then you can leave_.  
When the response comes, it is quiet and hesitant.  
“…alright.”  
But it is all he needs. All _they_ need. Slowly, Hannibal looks up from the scissors. Sees Will looking back. And smiles a little smile.

_Postscript_

i) During Will’s physiotherapy, Hannibal claims the act of fingering would count as one of his daily hand exercises to restore his range of motion. Just as Will hooking his arms under his legs to lift them while fucking him would count as strength training.

ii) The training is so successful, Hannibal is able to teach Will the remaining sex positions in his repertoire. Extra points when Will remembers the name of each correctly.

iii) A momentary blip sees Will passing out after 3 days of all sex and no sleep. He honestly thought that was it.

iv) When Hannibal implies Will’s broken arms might not have been accidental _per say_ , he is punished by being forced to wear a makeshift chastity belt. Until Will has the means of procuring a proper one with a padlock and key that’s to be promptly thrown away.


End file.
